This is shorter than I wanted. I would have typed more, but I felt like it was okay to end it here. Not much action, but definite conflict happening. That was super fun to write! Geez, I like this story so much! And it is definitely looking to be longer than Racing. Probably by quite a bit.
Thanks for reading guys! After this, I'm giving my brain a day of rest. It has had quite the workout lately. I'll probably be spending the time off writing for Valentine's Day. lol!
Chordata was a pure white cat.
Hitomi tried not to look at the older lady's beautifully groomed, fluffy tail, but it was severely distracting the way it swished back and forth lazily against the back of her legs like a pillowy pendulum. Sitting up from the bed, she brushed a hand over her weary eyes and noticed her pants folded and tucked underneath Chordata's furry arm. The cat's amber eyes skimmed on her face and Hitomi immediately felt the urge to brush her flyaway short hair in the wake of this perfectly groomed lady.
"Master Fanel is waiting for you, My Lady." Chordata's voice was as soft and light as her fur. "He has requested you hold off on food for today due to stomach reasons, but here is something to drink." Procuring a glass of water, she handed it over and Hitomi's headache subsided slightly with every gulp. Draining the glass, her empty stomach gave an embarrassing roar. The cat looked sincerely saddened.
"Where can I find him?" Hitomi asked, handing the empty cup back.
"In the living room down the stairs. I apologize for the state of this room. I was unaware Master Fanel was bring a house guest until you were already in the bed." Her beautiful eyes brushed to the room with an expression of distaste. "I am Chordata. Please, let me know if there is anything else you require, My Lady."
"Call me Hitomi, and thank you, Chordata." The short-haired girl smiled politely, remembering her manners.
The white cat gave a short elegant bow. "Master Fanel would wish me to call you something respectful for you are a welcomed guest under his roof. But I mustn't delay you. Here are your trousers."
Chordata left with a flourish of fluffy white fur. Standing up, Hitomi's legs felt rubbery and she had to brace herself on the wall to pull up her pants. Heading out the door, she crept to the winding staircase and made her way downstairs.
A sliver of cold raced up and down her arms as she stepped carefully and silently off the last stair on to a brown shaggy carpet. She crossed her arms over her thin shirt and shivered in the room; her green eyes focusing with longing on the comforting, crackling fireplace to her right. Small, fuel-powered lamps along the walls let out little spots of golden light that seemed to wage war with the shadows of the sparsely furnished living room. A small love-seat sat in front of the fire, the happy quilted design hardly matching the dark-wooded foundation.
Unthinkingly pushing her cold toes against the soft fibers under her feet, she scanned the room for a navy cap and found what she was looking for almost immediately. The man was standing perfectly straight to the far left, his back facing her. He was still in the same ragged pants and gray shirt she'd last seen him in. A long folding table covered with thick volume books and scrolls, scattered with papers and various writing utensils, stood in a proud mess in front of him. As she studied the table a little further, she noticed a navy pommel connected to a long thin sheath lying on top of several stacks of paper; acting as a very sharp, antique paperweight. Her green eyes focused in and out as the image of a headless corpse made her head pulse weakly. Four large windows, full of dark night, displayed the loudly swaying trees just outside the small wooden hut. The chilly night raged with a blustering ferocity against the creaking wooden house and it groaned at the onslaught. Taking several steps closer to the fire and wishing she had a cup of tea and two aspirin, her clean, slightly damp pants instantly began to soak in the welcomed heat.
"How was your rest?" His unexpected question pierced the quiet and made her freeze mid-step. Flipping her green eyes back to his silhouette, she could see his tan fingers gripped around a small book that was raised to his nose.
Her journal.
"It was fine," she answered stiffly, straightening and holding her chin a little higher. He was helping himself to her notes again. A quiver of irritation ran down her spine.
"Are you sure about that?"
Her eyebrows conjoined together in a frown. "Yes."
"You are lying," he returned, flipping a page gently with his thumb.
"I slept perfectly fine."
"You did not sleep at all. More accurately, you tossed and turned. You even cried a little." He closed her book gently and set it on the table, but didn't turn around to face her. "It is understandable. You are having trouble coping with what I have told you."
Her mouth open and she stared openly at his stoic back. A sharp blush flashed on her cheeks. "How-how do you-"
"Your voice is thick, yet you did not have nor possessed the beginnings of a cold when I last saw you. You also shivered as soon as you entered this room due to a weakened immune system and lack of energy. Your feet dragged a bit on each step on the way down."
She cocked her head and her bangs fell slightly in her face. Uncrossing her arms despite the chill, she squared her shoulders. "Do you make it a habit of analyzing every single thing?"
Grabbing a blank sheet of paper from a large random stack and catching a cheap pen that almost rolled off the table top, he nodded. "I am still alive because of it." He bent forward and wrote something quickly. "And so are you." Stopping for a second, he thought for a moment before jotting more words on the paper. Reaching over, he flipped open her journal tenderly to a place he'd obviously marked beforehand.
She winced inwardly. She was lucky to be alive because of him.
But that didn't mean he had to rub it in every single time she saw him.
"So, what now, then? You make me swear to help you, but I don't even know where to begin. And what exactly am I helping you with?"
"Why I was brought here," he answered simply.
"You said it was because of magic."
"I know what I said. The detail you skipped was 'why'.What do you know of magic?"
Hitomi shrugged her shoulders. "Magic was more fortune-telling than real spells. Visions of the future-"
"Or the past." He interrupted quietly. "What else?"
"I don't know. Like I said before. It's extinct."
"No," the long black hairs on the back of his neck wagged as he shook his head. "It is still here."
"How are you so sure?"
Turning his head to her for the first time, she could see the dark circles around his eyes even in the shadow of his hat. He lifted a long finger and beckoned her. Against her better judgment, she stepped closer to the table and caught a glance at what he'd written on the paper.
Do read a good old novel
Sweet little angel, yell every romantic sonnet
Things are not always as they seem.
Be ready
His handwriting was immaculately perfect. Every loop, every curve done with lovely penmanship. He straightened up, placing his writing utensil delicately on the table. Turning towards her, standing tall and strong, the historian couldn't help but feel intimidated by this man. He looked like a mad man, his ragged garbs and scraggly black locks, but the way he positioned his body, his steady hands and firm jaw, his confident demeanor…
"How am I sure? Because you came here. With this." He motioned to her journal.
"Are you saying magic brought me to Fanelia?"
"There is a high probability it led you here to help me," he answered clearly, no doubts in his eyes.
"To help you? The lost King of Fanelia? Me?"
"Yes, in fact, this may be the purpose you were born for."
She shifted with the wave of irritability. "A bit self-centered, aren't we?"
"I am entitled to be. I am a king."
She rolled her eyes and sighed. "I know you believe in magic, Your Majesty-Fanel-er…"
"You may call me Van."
"Right, but you have to understand. Magic has become a mystery, an enigma of sorts. People have tried for centuries to bring magic back. There are those who claim to be touched by magic, to have visions of the future, but they always prove to be frauds. Scientists have even tested various blood samples of people whose ancestors carried magic in their genes. It… just doesn't exist anymore." His blank expression shifted and he visibly swallowed; the lump in his tan throat jumping up and sliding down. "Everything from your time is fading. The only dragon hearts we have left are in museums and hardly have enough juice in them to power a stereo, let alone a huge Guymelef." The girl sighed, raising a cold hand to rub the back of her neck. "I'm sorry if I don't understand what exactly magic is. It isn't an area I'm familiar with."
"You believe I came to your timeline with magic, and therefore, you could not believe what you are saying." He said lowly. Hitomi blinked and opened her mouth, but he interrupted her. "Your eyes have brightened considerably since we started talking about magic. Your cheeks have gained more color and you are no longer shivering. The angle of your body suggests you are trying to prove what you say is true, but you have your right foot curved out away from your body." He pointed at her feet and she immediately changed her stance.
"So what if my right foot is out?" She asked defensively.
"The left side is analytical, tactical. Your right side- imagination, creativity, intuition is trying to step away from what you are saying. You rubbed your neck with your left hand, unintentionally attempting to strengthen your logic and push away something that defies it. But…" His mahogany eyes contracted at her with severe examination and she took a step back from his intrusive stare. "You have either had visions before touching the pendant or unknowingly dealt with magic in your past. You are lying to yourself without realizing it."
"Lying to myself? What the hell are you talking about?" She asked incredulously.
"It is written all over your face."
A hot rush of rage ripped through her and she clenched her fists against him. "No, what is written on my face is anger! You don't know the first thing about me! Just because I stuck my right foot out suddenly I've been lying to myself all my life?"
"And I have made you irrationally cross again." His tone was impassive, bored even. She held down the violent urge to kick him in the shin.
"You pompous, arrogant, jerk! Who do you think you are? You might be a king where you are from, but here, you are king of nothing!"
"Insults do not work on me and I do not have time to deal with your mental issues right now. Why did you write these words in several pages of the journal?" He gestured to the paper.
"What? You can't figure it out from my wiggling eyebrows?!"
"I said I do not have time for-"
"Well, I think we can set aside a moment for an apology!"
Van's lips twitched thoughtfully, "I agree. You may begin at any time."
Her mouth dropped open with disbelief. "Not me! YOU!"
He frowned, not in annoyance, but confusion. "What do I have to apologize about? I was simply speaking my mind, and if I remember correctly, you were the one insulting me just now."
She let out a frustrated growl and turned away from him waving her hands in the air. "No more! No more! I can't take this! You are completely insufferable."
"You know I am right. I can tell because you-"
Hitomi whirled around. "Stop analyzing me! If you must read into every single batting eyelash, do so silently. I can't handle you spouting out what I'm secretly feeling inside. If I'm here to help you then you need to learn personal boundaries. It is not okay to speak your mind every single time."
He was silent for a full minute. Finally, he released a low breath. "Maybe I was a bit careless."
"And I was a bit temperamental." She acknowledged, stifling her anger with their mutual declarations of peace. "You will stop, right?" Green eyes laced into mahogany and she was struck once again by how tired he looked. He gave another visible swallow and one short incline of his head. "Excellent," she forced a smile. "Now what was your question again?"
"Will you tell me the significance of these words?"
Glancing at the paper, he backed away so she could stand closer to the table. "That is what my father used to write at the end of his letters to me. They are the last thing he ever wrote to me. I've always felt they were important, but I can't figure out why. I don't know any romantic sonnets. I have plenty of novels, but-"
"Dragon Slayers."
Hitomi was stunned to stuttering words. "W-w-what?"
The king reached out and pointed at each word like she was a child. "'Do-read-a-good-old-novel'. The first letter in each of those words spells Dragon. 'Sweet-little-angel-yell-every-romantic-sonnet'. Slayers. He was telling you 'Dragon Slayers'. Why was he writing that to…?" The man faded off as he saw the tears beginning to trail gently down from her brimming green eyes. Keeping his feet planted firmly on the floor, he breathed steadily as if readying himself for a battle.
She let out a choking sob and lifted her hands to cover the bottom portion of her face. Her mind was in a hot dance of disbelief and frustration.
All this time. All this time she'd been asking herself the questions of what those precious words could possibly mean. And within the span of a few hours, this stranger just waltzed into her life and figured it out. No help from a research tome. No quick scan on the internet. Hitomi felt her humiliated tears rolling from her cheeks down to pool in the palm of her hands. How could she have been so stupid? Of course, her father would have hidden a message in there. Of course, there was more to this than it seemed. But years of trying to figure out the cryptic message and it was something so simple. So stupidly easy…
"Your father must have thought you would figure it out eventually." The short-haired girl sobbed harder. Van swallowed again, his brain attempting to read how to rationally deal with her onslaught of weeping. "You must know what it means. Is Dragon Slayers anywhere in the book?" He reached around to pick up the journal and tried to hand it to her.
Much to his supreme displeasure, she wasn't to be distracted. Turning on heel, she swiftly raced to the staircase and bounded up the steps like a howling banshee. Her passionate retreat scattered a few of his loose papers and he leaped forward to catch them before they blustered to the floor. Holding the messy stack steady in his strong hands, his mahogany eyes closed for a brief moment.
"Escaflowne preserve me." He murmured. After making sure the papers were secure, but before he could logic himself out of it, Van grabbed the sheet he'd written on and he turned to follow her up the stairs.
The room was dark, but it fit her just perfectly. Slamming the squawking door, she threw herself on the small bed and curled into a ball, her tears soaking into the hard pillow beneath her pulsating head. Flashes of her haughtily telling off the tour guide, words dripping with knowledge that she herself never researched, spouting off lines from her father's journal like they were her own. More tears leaked out of her puffy eyes. She was a complete idiot.
Dragon Slayers… Van Slanzar de Fanel, the time-misplaced king, figured it out so easily. Everything seemed to be so decipherable to him. She felt as if her entire body was exposed, torn open, skin peeled back wide for his quick, exploring eyes. All of her inner thoughts dissected by one small gesture she made or one twitch of her shoulder or turn of her head. How was she supposed to help this person? She couldn't even solve the simplest of riddles! She'd had her father's words for so many years never even thought to try an acronym. Turning to lay on her back, she lifted a hand to wipe her eyes.
Well, sitting here crying about her lack of mental prowess wasn't going to help anyone. Taking a shuddering breath, she sniffed back the mucus in her nose and tried to blink away the blooming headache that was spreading its painful petals over her forehead. If the first part of her father's message was an acronym, then what about the rest of it? She sighed thickly and wished for a paper and a pen. Maybe there was something…
She sat up with a thoughtful frown and sniffed again. Things are not always as they seem…
"Uh, are you okay?" Van's low voice resounded coolly outside her closed, broken-hinged door. She heard him rap his knuckles softly. "Am I permitted to enter the room?"
Exhausted, drained, and starved, she glanced at the door with a simmer of dread. Hitomi knew she'd made a right idiot out of herself downstairs. Pushing a trembling hand through her short locks, she mustered up the last of her energy to brace herself for the analytical man-monster and muffled out, "Enter."
The handle to the door turned slowly and the wood squeaked loudly against its bent hinges. Van pushed it open with a sturdy hand and took a couple of steps inside. His mahogany eyes immediately zeroed in on her, flipping from her messy hair to her curled toes. Hitomi wondered briefly what he was reading from her body language, and then, with an inward scoff, she decided she didn't care.
"I have a clear understanding as to why you are upset." He started briskly, standing like an imposing soldier at her doorway. His straight back and sullen expression made her fight a weary smile that wished to spread on her lips.
God, she felt like she was going insane.
"Why am I upset?" She asked, blinking through the fog in her the side of her vision.
"You have requested I do not announce my thoughts. I was respecting your wishes."
"Humor me just this once."
Van's hat tipped a bit to the side and he blinked several times before complying. "I have taken into account the amount of stress a normal adult human body can handle in a day and compared it to the amount you have been through in the past twenty-four hours and I have come to the conclusion that you are shutting down mentally and physically. Seeing you sit there now, I deduct you are tapping into the basic instinct of fight versus flight. The flight was your running upstairs. Now that you are cornered, fight has come into play. Your legs, which are curled to your chest for protection, are the strongest and most lethal part of your body. Your eyes." He stopped for a moment, his sharp gaze slipping over her face. "Your eyes are obviously heavy-lidded from crying, but also from the trauma, lethargy, and uneasiness. I have decided you are no use to me until you get some proper rest. You will sleep for the night and replenish your energy with breakfast in the morning."
"Did you bring that paper you were writing on?" She zeroed in on his hand and made moves to get off the bed.
"I have commanded you to rest." The king said swiftly. "Your mental capacity is unable to-"
"That's nice. Let me see the paper." She interrupted. Hitomi swung her legs over and disobediently crossed the wooden floor closer to him. She held out her hand expectantly and he tucked the paper around his back.
"I have commanded you to rest." Van frowned underneath his cap as she tried to reach around him and snatch the paper. He danced elegantly to the right to avoid her.
She ignored him and moved to catch him off-guard to the left. He dodged her easily again. "'Things are not always as they seem', right? What's the acronym for that?" He lifted the paper in the air above her head and she jumped for it.
"T.A.N.A.A.T.S, but this is not what we are-"
"Okay, that doesn't make sense… maybe that isn't… an acronym, but something else… Maybe it has to do with… Dragon Slayers…What are your thoughts…?" She let out a panting groan each time she leapt for the paper. He held it effortlessly out of her reach.
"I think you should stop." The black-haired man announced with a wince as she pounced accidentally on the toe of his shoe. "Your body cannot handle the physical exertions you are forcing upon it."
Pausing in her fruitless jumping, she gave him a cross look. "I'm fine!"
"You are far from fine. Arguing with me one moment, crying the next. I have commanded you to-"
"I am not someone you can just boss around because you are a king! I am Austurian born with rights and privileges given to me from a democracy. And I will go to bed on my own terms. Not just for political justification, but because I am also a grown-up!"
"A grown-up jumping and down for a piece of paper?" She leaped again and he scowled. "Are you aware you are quite frustrating?"
"Yukari calls it 'crazy'." Hitomi panted, her legs beginning to feel shaky. Bracing her hands on her knees, she shook her head blinking out the spots. She raised a trembling palm for the white sheet still held over his head. "Give me the paper."
"Go lay down."
"Give me the paper."
"Go lay down first." He closed the gap and grabbed her upraised fingers. Pulling her with a tight grip – and with weak resistance – to the bed, she couldn't even fight as he pushed her over and she tumbled into the old blankets. Setting the paper down beside her pillow, he bent down and lifted her legs onto the bed. She was instantly reminded of how he'd bent to his knee to tie her shoe right after he'd knocked it off during the tour. He was good at reading people. Really good. A shiver of embarrassment made her blush as he straightened the covers over her body.
He probably noticed – just like now – her blushing face and racing heart. Thankfully, he really wasn't as intuitive as he declared to be. He thought her crying was a physical and mental issue. While those did factor in a big part, her outburst had been more emotional than anything else.
Wondering tiredly at his dedication to tying her shoe perfectly, his same commitment to making sure the blanket were long enough to cover her bare feet, she yawned audibly. He had told her he'd saved her life because of her notes and her knowledge. Mentally shaking her head, she chided herself. She'd been dumb enough for one day.
Tomorrow, she'd show him what she was made of.
"You have your paper. We will talk in the morning." He turned to leave, strolling to the doorway with long steps.
"I will help you figure out why you are here. I promise." He stopped, but kept his back to her. Reaching over, she rested the fingertips of her right hand on the words of her father and the impeccable writing of Van Slanzar de Fanel. "Father wanted me to be ready, always to be ready. Maybe you are right, Van. Maybe I'm supposed to be ready to meet you. Maybe I destined in this world to help you…" Her voice trailed away as oblivion set in to her cleared mind.
The dark-haired man paused to grab the door knob. Glancing back to the sleeping woman, his mahogany eyes examined her peaceful face, instantly counting her deep breaths and catching the flutter of her dreaming eyelashes. Then he focused on her small fingers lying helplessly still on his penned words.
Stepping out into the hallway, he shut the door to her room.
Like I said before, it was a shorter chapter than I originally planned. I still feel like I'm establishing personalities. Of course, we will meet more characters along the way, so that is a never ending process. You really didn't know Van though. I have to admit, he is more Sherlock Holmes than I thought. I actually kind of like him that way. As it is slightly proven, he really doesn't possess very good social skills. Now you see why I'm excited to write this story? lol!
Thanks for reading! It means so much that people are still sticking with the story!
Have a good one and hope to see you next update!
blue...